


You Make Lovin Fun

by waltermitty



Series: Sam, Natasha, Steve, Bucky [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Dom Sam Wilson, Dom Steve Rogers, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory Negotiations, Polygamy, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sub Bucky Barnes, Sub Natasha Romanov, What's Your Number Reference, big dick Bucky, big dick Steve, big dick sam, natasha is in love with sam, natasha is literally the best, read at your own risk- lots of sexual content!, sam wilson is in love with natasha, sort of like whats your number but different, there are foursomes in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-02-26 19:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18723856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltermitty/pseuds/waltermitty
Summary: Sam, Bucky, Natasha, and Steve and how they all fell in love.BIG WARNING:IF you are NOT comfortable with BDSM, do not read this fic. Everything sexual in this fic is ALWAYS backed by very enthusiastic consent, as you will see. there will be elements of Dom/Sub relationships, and I will add warnings to each new chapter, but please please read at your own risk. I am aware not everyone likes the same things that I do, and I'm also aware that a lot of folks do. This is a fic that's meant to be fun! SO please! read the warnings before each chapter. There will NEVER be elements of non-consensual sex. There will always be warnings posted with each chapter! I cannot stress that enough.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I watched What's Your Number for the first time a couple of weeks ago and got the idea to make a fic based on some of the ideas in the film. I personally am polyamorous so of course, everything I write is usually set up that way. Basically, an excuse to pretend like Endgame never happened, our beloved characters are getting dicked down, and in this world all they need is love.  
> I've been dying to write Sam/Nat/Steve/Bucky for a while, so I went ham with it.  
> IF there is an element that you'd like to see the characters explore, feel free to leave a comment or hit me up in my inbox and I will happily see what I can do!
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER. PLEASE READ  
> Sam and Bucky get real close, lots of dick oggling thru tight pants. that's it.

Bucky was rudely awakened by the sound of insistent knocking on his front door. Rudely awakened might have been a bit of a stretch, seeing as he had been laying in bed next to the man from last night (whose name escaped him at the moment), for several minutes debating on how to get rid of him. He was plenty nice, tall with dark hair and blue eyes, a good kisser, Bucky had decided. But he had a strange lisp and smacked his food, and Bucky wanted him gone. The knocking continued, louder now somehow, and Bucky grumpily rolled out of bed with a fervor unmatched, stalking over to the door and yanking it wide open, to reveal his neighbor Sam.

Sam was embarrassingly underdressed for an early Sunday morning visit, clad only in a pair of tight Captain America boxers, which accentuated his bulge obscenely.

 

“Hey there Buck! It seems that I am out of milk, and coffee,” he begins, voice smooth and rich, draping over Bucky like a warm blanket. “And I was wondering if it’d be too much to ask ya for a cup of joe on this fine morning.”

 

As if to accentuate his need for coffee, he yawns and stretches, leaning further into Bucky’s doorway. Sam’s dog tags hang around his neck, sitting in the dip between his pecs, cool metal contrasting against smooth dark skin. To top it off, his abs _literally_ rippled as he leaned against the door frame, the cut of his hips accentuated further as he tilted forward, shit eating grin painted on full lips. Bucky turns a bright red at the theatrics, guest in his bed momentarily forgotten, moving to the side to allow Sam to step inside. He closes the door behind him, watches him pad into the kitchen, and if Bucky shamelessly checks out his ass that's his business, and it _is_ his house.

 

“So, you’re gonna owe me big time for this coffee emergency Wilson.” Bucky finally says, voice raspy from sleep.

 

Sam just quirks an eyebrow at him and flops down onto the couch, reaching for last Sunday's paper on the coffee table and finally noticing the guy laying spread eagle in Bucky’s bed.

“Boyfriend?”

 

“More like evening guest whose name escapes me and I can’t seem to get rid of." Bucky replies, pouring the coffee into the filler and heating up some water on the stove.

 

“Ah, I get that. Shit’s annoying. Want me to get rid of him?”

 

“Oh geez no Sam I can’t ask you to do that, god, I’ll figure it out.”

 

With a groan so theatrical it works, Sam shoves off of the couch and winks at Bucky, walking over towards the doorway, slipping on a pair of Bucky’s oversized grey sweatpants as he goes. They barely fit him, stretching tightly across his muscular thighs, waistband pulled low on his hips. Bucky thinks he’s drooling at the sight, silently begs himself to pull it together as Sam winks at him, snatching the unopened container of strawberries on his countertop and wiggling them at Buck as he saunters towards the doorway.

 

“Honey! I’m home!! I stopped at the market on the way over, and I picked out some of the freshest berries- Oh HEAVENS IS THAT A MAN? IN OUR BED?”

 

Bucky burns bright red as the man in his bed jumps straight up at Sam’s dramatics, reaching for as many clothes as he can, avoiding eye contact while apologizing profusely. Sam begins to wail, all but throwing the carton of strawberries a good foot away from him, whilst dropping to his knees and hollering as if he’d just been stabbed.

 

“I am so sorry!!! He- “ At this, the man points to Bucky, who is standing in the kitchen holding the pot of hot water, mugs tucked under his bicep, frozen to the floor. “He didn't tell me he was seeing someone.”

 

Sam lifts his head from where it has made its way to the floor, knees tucked into his chest in the fetal position as he rocks back and forth. He sits up eyes wet, holding back a smile.

 

“Seeing someone? We’re married! Ten years of marriage and this is how he treats me?” Sam wails again, releasing his knees from his chest and flopping back onto the floor, throwing an arm over his eyes, really milking it now.

 

Bucky stifles a grin against his palm, hoping it comes off as speechless shame, and scrambles towards the door to fling it open so his guest can run out. He almost trips over Sam, who is currently writhing on the floor like he’s having a seizure. Bucky slams the door shut behind him and slumps against it, the laughter that’s been building in his chest bursting out. Sam’s wails immediately cease, as he too begins to laugh, a belly laugh that fills the apartment. Bucky wipes his eyes, tears pooling in them, and returns back to finish their coffees. He pours Sam and himself their coffee, dumping more than enough milk into Sam’s mug at his direction. He spoons some honey into his, stirring it lightly, plucking Sam’s cup from the counter and bringing it to him before returning to grab his own, plopping down next to Sam, careful not to lose his balance. Sam takes a sip and moans, throwing his head back in ecstasy. Bucky rolls his eyes so hard it feels like they’ll roll out of his head, taking a sip of his own coffee.

 

“Hey, Sam?”

 

“Yes, Bucky?” Sam tilts his head towards Bucky, peeing at him over his coffee, brown eyes sparkling.

 

“I’m sure that your own respective evening guest has left your apartment by now.” Bucky deadpans, staring straight ahead. “You don’t have to hide out here anymore.”

 

“Oh but Buck-” Sam starts, tone honey sweet and dripping sultry, “I wanna stay here with you.”

 

Bucky snorts into his coffee, swallowing his mouthful and heaving himself off the couch.

 

“I’ve gotta meet Carol and Maria for breakfast, so unfortunately for you, I have to go, but you're welcome to finish your coffee.”

 

“Thanks, sexy face.” Sam returns smoothly, taking another gulp and punctuating it with a smirk.

 

Bucky just pads off into the bathroom, grabbing a pair of jeans and an old Van Halen shirt. He recognizes it as Steve’s, the artist he dated for a couple of weeks last fall. He pins the left sleeve into a neatly folded triangle, tucking it against his stump until it lies comfortably. He’d lost the arm 3 years ago on his first and last tour in Iraq, during a night raid. It’d been blown clean off, and the doctors told him he was lucky to be alive, which is easy to say when you aren’t 22 and down an arm. It was part of the reason he and Sam even met at all, one of the first nights he had moved in he’d gone out to get some groceries. Their rickety old elevator was always out of service, as he now knew, and he’d had to carry two large brown paper bags of assorted crap up 4 flights of stairs with one arm. Sam had been on his way out, to a party or perhaps a date, seeing as he was dressed in a suit and tie. He’d offered his help, grabbing one of the bags and hauling it upstairs to Bucky’s apartment, which had been across the hall from his own. Sam had stayed and talked, talked Bucky’s goddam ear off, about his own military service, his love of bad romance movies, and comics, and if he wasn’t such a man whore Bucky might’ve thought about asking him to coffee. Alas, he was the biggest slut Bucky had ever met, and while Bucky had no problem with this, he didn’t particularly want this for himself. Ergo, friendship. Bucky pulled off his sleep shorts and shirt, tossing them off somewhere near his bed, and slipped the worn blue jeans over his boxers. He brushed his hair as best he could, the tangled rat's nest of wavy shoulder-length brown hair poofing out considerably even with his best efforts to tame it.

 

“Saam?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Could you braid my hair back before I have to leave?” Bucky calls this request out as he's brushing his teeth, which he knows is one of Sam’s pet peeves.

 

Nonetheless, as if summoned from a bottle, Sam appears behind him, scrunchies and a brush in hand.

 

“One or two?”

 

“Two please”

 

Sam nods his assurance and crowds himself into Bucky’s space. He can feel the warm press of his chest against his shoulders as Sam leans in and begins to gather the strands of hair, separating the halves. He moves with Bucky as he leans down to spit out his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, hips flush against his lower back. Bucky does his best to count baseball scores, thinks of his mom, his sisters, anything to push away the pooling arousal in his gut as Sam tugs on his hair and hums as he works, dick pressing into Bucky like a goddamn divining rod. Within a few minutes, Sam is done, a slight _taa daa_ passing his lips as he fiddles with the last bit of braid.

 

“Thanks, Sam, you’re a real pal. I desperately need a haircut though.”

 

“I like your hair, but if you really want a haircut I know a gal who can do it for free,” Sam replies, already walking back towards the couch, making a beeline for his coffee.

 

 Bucky considers this as he grabs his keys and phone, sliding his feet into his slip ons.

 

“Yeah, that sounds good actually. Lemme know when she's free huh?”

 

“Sure thing Buck, see ya later!” Sam waves as Bucky slips out the door, pulling it shut behind him.

 

He makes his way down the stairs, stepping out into the brisk morning air, heading towards the rundown little diner on the corner of his block. He sees them through the window, cuddled up close, sharing a menu in their usual corner booth. There's another girl with them that Bucky doesn't recognize, her long dark hair falling in waves down her back, simple tank top showing off her tanned brown skin. She was sandwiched in between Carol and Maria, arms linked with theirs, smiling brightly. Bucky made his way to the booth and plopped down theatrically, wiggling his eyebrows at Carol.

“So ya gonna introduce me to your friend?” Bucky starts, smiling at the girl as friendly as he can muster for 8 o'clock in the morning.

 

“I’m Valkyrie, but you can call me V, or Val.”

 

“We met at Monica’s dance class, Val teaches the class right after hers” Maria supplies helpfully as Carol just nods, folding the menu back together and setting it down with certainty.

 

“Yep! We started dating officially last week” Carol finishes, smile plastered across her face.

 

All three of them grin dumbly at one another, in their own world. Finally, the approaching waitress breaks them from their reverie, bringing them their coffee and taking their orders. Carol and Maria order the silver dollar pancakes, Maria’s with blueberries, and Val orders the classic egg breakfast. Bucky opts for a cup of fruit and a vanilla milkshake. Their waitress wanders off to greet the only other people in the restaurant, a couple in the corner by the entrance. Bucky and Carol had come upon this place when they first started dating, a rickety old place, vinyl seats and linoleum tiles bringing about some sort of vintage charm. They’d been meeting here every Sunday for the past 5 years, even after they broke up, Carol introducing him to Maria and her daughter Monica in this very booth. He’s broken from his own memories by Val asking him how he and Carol met, which leads into the story of them hooking up, and as things usually do with Carol, everything snowballs and turns into some of the most embarrassing stories they have of one another. They pause only to eat bites of their breakfasts, laughing their heads off of stories about Vals time as a street performer, and little anecdotes of their respective times overseas. Conversation flows easily between the four of them, Val happily snuggled between Maria and Carol. Carol finally asks the question Bucky knows that she’s been dying to ask.

 

“So Buck, ya got any prospective partners we can meet?” Bucky just rolls his eyes good-naturedly as Maria chimes in with a “Hey what happened to Steve? He was so sweet.”

 

Val looks up from where she's been devouring what was left of Carol's pancakes, cheeks full.

 

“Steve Rogers?” she mumbles almost incoherently around a mouthful of food.

 

“That’d be the one,” Bucky replies, taking a drink of milkshake both because he wants a sip, but mostly to avoid having to answer further questions.

 

Valkyrie swallows what's left of her mouthful, a grin spreading wide across her beautiful face.

 

“Steve and I took an art class together! He’s the best. He also mentioned he had been seeing a brown haired, blue eyed “god” of a man the last time I saw him.” she punctuates this with a knowing smirk, watchful eyes staring at Bucky as he chugs his milkshake like it’s the last he’ll ever have.

 

“Would you know who that was?” She asks again, grin spreading further across her face. Maria and Carol begin to chime in with matching “Yeah Bucky’s” and giggles as he turns redder and redder across the table from them.

 

“Look. Yes, I know Steve. No, things didn’t work out. He wanted something more casual, and since I’m not getting any younger here I’m looking for something a little bit serious. We ended things on good terms though.”

 

Carol just nods in understanding, Maria swallows her grin, and Valkyrie watches him like a lioness debating how to make the kill. Its unbelievably intimidating and Bucky loves it. She stares at him for a long minute, watches him slurp at the remains of his milkshake pathetically.

 

“In case you’re interested, Buck, Steve is now looking for something more serious as well. He’s the head baker over at Redbone Cafe.” She tilts her head at him as if daring him to ask her for his number.

 

Bucky matches her gaze with a look of equal intensity, pushes his fruit cup away from himself and begins to scoot out of the booth.

 

“Thanks, Val! I’ll absolutely head on over there now.”

 

“You better! I’ll tell him you asked about him. Use it as a conversation starter.” Valkyrie yells at him, stern look dissolving into a giggle as Bucky mock salutes her, waving to Carol and Maria as he turns tail and heads back home.

 

He catches Carol's yell of “You owe me for breakfast!” as he scoots out the door, passing by their booth as he walks up the block. Maria grins at him through the glass, Carol gives him the finger, and Val just eats more pancakes. He makes it back to his apartment in record time, hoping Sam is still lounging around his apartment half dressed. He’s met with an empty apartment, a green sticky note stuck to his mirror. _“Wish I coulda stuck around to hang more, had to get to my class. Text my girl Natasha if you want that haircut, Barnes.” - Sam_

Bucky dials the number that’s scrawled onto the sticky note, a raspy voice answering with a “Hello?” on the second ring.

 

“Hi, uh- my names Bucky- I’m a friend of Sam’s? He told me to call ya for a hair appointment?”

 

“Oh!” The voice perks up at this, adopting a considerably friendlier tone. “I’m free this afternoon! Does that work for you?”

 

“Sure, thank you so much. Should I just send you my address or?” “That’s fine, but I actually was going to offer up Sam’s place. He has a full-length mirror sitting over tile floors, which is good for cleanup, and it gives a great view.”

 

“Uh- Okay?” “How does four sound?” “Sounds great. See you then!” The phone clicks, the voice promptly hanging up.

 

Bucky sits for a moment, mulling over the conversation in his head. She seems sweet, he decides, and she had a very nice voice. Raspy and sultry without trying, curt without being off-putting. It’s only 10 am, so Bucky decides to get back in bed, shucking his clothes as he goes, flopping onto his stomach into the unmade sheets.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we get to meet Nat and Steve! Nat meets Bucky ! yayy!   
> Natasha and Sam are in a relationship, they both sleep with other people. They have Dom/Sub dynamic that won't be fully explored until later chapters but there are hints of it within this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE READ:   
> There is explicit sexual content between Natasha and Sam. There are dynamics of D/S play here and it's pretty clear cut and straight forward. (Also I'm queer and trans and I did my best to write a straight cis sex scene without any queer elements so forgive me if it's a bit shaky.) I did my best! Also, big dicke Sam bc the author has a size kink and is a dumbass hoe so please enjoy.   
> Sam and Steve get handsy at yoga.. hehe   
> I'm a sucker for gentle possessive elements, so that's in there too. I cannot stress enough that these characters respect one another and are in a happy open relationship where they realize they are both individuals! I hope that comes across despite the hints of jealousy.

Sam hadn’t meant to become such good friends with his conveniently hot neighbor. It had all unfolded rather spectacularly he felt, meeting Bucky the night he was supposed to go out with a girl Natasha had suggested to him. He used the excuse of helping him carry groceries to his door to miss the date altogether, sticking around for a couple of beers and excellent conversation. Bucky was unfairly attractive, slightly smaller than Sam, with piercing blue eyes and a sharp jaw. He was witty and sweet and watching him blush at Sam’s near nakedness at 7 am was more than enough to send Sam over the metaphorical moon.

Natasha had been the one to thank for this morning’s ridiculousness. Sam had woken up to a slow press of kisses down his chest, long red hair trailing in their wake. When he was awake enough to mutter a “Nat?” She paused in her quest southward, green eyes sparkling as she rested her pale cheek on his thigh, ghosting a warm breath over his dick.

 

“Good morning Sam.” was all she said, before pushing herself up and onto his chest, softly connecting their lips.

 

He kissed her back almost immediately, wrapping one arm around her slender waist, the other coming up to tangle into her hair. She was wearing one of his shirts, worn and soft, hanging off of her smaller frame. She pulled away, a smile across her full lips, sitting up fully, hips shimmying so that her ass could rest right over his bulge. As if by instinct alone, his hands ran up her thighs, coming around to cup her ass.

 

“What do I owe the supreme pleasure of being woken up by this too?” Sam all but moans, as she rocks her hips slowly back into his waiting hands, providing friction right where he’s aching for it.

 

She pauses for a moment, lets him trail his hands up and under his shirt, rucking it up underneath her breasts.

 

“I missed you. Can’t a girl get some lovin without an interrogation Wilson? God.”

 

“Yeah honey, sure. Missed you too. What ya wanna do huh?” Want me to eat you out?” She moans a little as his finger brushes her nipple, his other hand gripping her waist.

 

Sam just quirks an eyebrow, waiting for her response. She rocks her hips again and Sam flips them so she’s lying underneath him, rolls his own hardness into her wet heat.

 

“Gotta tell me what ya want baby, otherwise it’s gonna be a long day for the both of us.” Sam chokes out as she runs her hand down his abs, slipping into his briefs.

 

“Well,” She starts, full lips curving ever so devilishly, “I would like for you to eat me out, and then if you’re so inclined, fuck me within an inch of my life.” She pauses, licks her lips. “Sir.”

 

Sam stares at her incredulously for a moment, mostly out of sheer awe of the creature beneath him, wearing his shirt, red hair spread like a wildfire over the pillow. She’s beautiful, always has been, her pale curves a harsh contrast to his dark edges.

 

“I’m gonna spend a couple of minutes kissing those beautiful lips sweetheart, and then yea- yeah baby I’ll fuck ya good ok?” Natasha smiles up at him, catlike, before she reaches the hand that isn't currently wrapped around his cock upwards to tangle into his tags, pulls him down into a dirty kiss.

 

She opens her mouth for him instantly as he slides the hand on her waist down to her ass, yanking her closer still. With his other hand, he grabs her wrist, pulling her hand out of his briefs, pinning it above her head.

 

“This ok baby? Can I hold you down?”

 

“Yeah, fuck- oh!” He pulls her arm from around his waist, pulls it up to where she’s let him place her other arm, gathers both of her slender wrists in his hand and begins to move down her body.

 

He lets them go if only to slide both his palms underneath her hips, tilting her center up to meet his mouth. She whimpers, arms locked in place above her head, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. He pauses, mouth pressed against her green panties, slowly tonguing at her center.

 

“Tasha baby you look so goddamn good in my clothes. Wanna make ya wear em all the time, just so everyone knows who you come home too.” Sam licks a stripe up her center, over her thin panties, just to get her riled up.

 

She squirms against his hold, tries to lock his head in with her powerful thighs wrapped around his shoulders.

 

“Yeah Sam, always gonna come back to ya. You make me feel so good baby- fuck oh ok right there” Her voice is ragged, usual rasp somehow even stronger as she arches her back, hands still pinned above her head.

 

Sam finally slips her underwear off her legs, buries his face into her wet heat, alternating licks and sucks, bringing a hand up to tease her clit as he spells her name into her cunt. She moans her approval, hands balling into fists above her head as he works, does his damndest to bring her to climax. Within minutes she's grinding against his mouth, making her own pace, little _“yeah good job baby right there-’s”_ falling from her lips between alternating moans. Sams dick is currently trapped between her and the mattress, lazy grinds of his hips becoming more erratic with the sounds she's making, using him to get off. Her hips slow as she comes, a breathy moan punching out of her throat, matching his groan at her release. He untangles her legs from around his neck, gently wiping his mouth as he leans up to kiss her. She licks into his mouth, hums as he grinds into her.

 

“Can I fuck ya now baby? Do you need me to finger you first, or do you just want me to slide right in, stretch ya out as I go huh?”

 

“Jesus Christ- gotta finger me a little, you’re not exactly small- nor average” Nat smiles, pecking him on the lips.

 

“Can I move my hands now? Wanna touch you, run my hands down your abs baby.”

 

Sam chokes out a _yes_ , slips a finger inside her as she works down his briefs, his aching cock slapping against his abs. She arches into the fingers as he adds another, kissing her neck, sucking a considerable hickey into her jaw, thrusting into her palm.

 

‘You make me crazy Tash. You know that right?” He’s gazing at her and he’s sure he looks nuts, but the sun is streaming through the curtains and shes golden glowing and beautiful, and he’s never loved someone like how loves her.

 

“I love you, Sam Wilson, you ridiculous sap.” They both laugh, punch drunk and giddy, and her slender fingers wrap around him, guiding him to her entrance.

 

He wraps a hand around her waist, the other tangling in her hair, gathering the strands in a tight hold. He slides inside her, shallow thrusts at first, until she urges him on faster, and he does exactly as she asked. He takes his time with it, savoring the feel of her wrapped around him, his shirt bunched around her waist, the way her hair falls, haphazard around her green eyes.

 

“Alright you oaf- god how much do you weigh- get off me”

 

“guuuuuuuuhhhhh” Sam replies, his brain short-circuiting as he comes down out of his post-orgasm haze.

 

Natasha just giggles and shoves him off of her, his weight landing warm next to her. She rolls out the other side of the bed, padding off to find a towel. Sam lies in bed for a few moments longer, waiting for his legs to come back to life. Natasha makes it back to his bed before he’s even moved, climbing in next to him and snuggling down.

 

“I had to wake up at 6 am for that little stunt Wilson. I’m going back to bed. And you- are gonna go get coffee with Bucky.”

 

“Was that the only reason you came up here? So I’d go talk to Bucky?” Natasha just grins, that feline smile curling over her lips again.

 

“Maybe so.” Sam groans, rolls out of bed and pads over to his dresser to grab a pair of briefs, Capitan America ones to be exact, which had happened to be a gag gift from Natasha herself.

 

“Kiss me before you leave Sammy boy! It’s what I deserve.” Natasha calls to him from the now nest of pillows and blankets thrown over his bed.

 

Sam just laughs and hightails it back to her, sinks down into the downy and kisses her. He kisses her like she wants, slow and soft, and for a split second, he debates climbing back into bed with her and never leaving. All too soon she’s pulling away, shoving at his chest insistent to get him to leave.

 

“Are you going to go home today? Or do you wanna come with me to yoga?”

 

“I’ll be here when you get home. I _could_ be convinced to come to your class if you bring me some french toast!” Sam nods his assent and slips out the door, still wearing just his boxers, barefoot and sleep heavy, tags thumping as he pads across the hallway to Bucky’s apartment.

 

He knocks, once, waits a couple of minutes with no response, and then knocks again. He’s about to make it a third knock when the door swings open, Bucky standing in the doorway looking irritated. His long brown hair is back in some sort of haphazard bun, and he’s wearing these tiny little black workout shorts, and for some godforsaken reason, a Wham! tank top that sits right above his belly button.

 

“Hey there Buck! It seems that I am out of milk, and coffee,” he begins, mouth dry at the small smirk flitting across Bucky’s face. “And I was wondering if it’d be too much to ask ya for a cup of joe on this fine morning.” As if to accentuate his need for coffee, he yawns and stretches, leaning further into Bucky’s doorway, watches Bucky’s blue eyes roam over his mostly naked body, his tongue coming out to wet his lips slightly.

 

Bucky wordlessly steps to the side, letting Sam saunter into his apartment like he belongs there.

 

“So, you’re gonna owe me big time for this coffee emergency Wilson.” Bucky finally says from behind him, voice raspy from sleep.

 

Sam turns to watch him pad into the kitchen, all soft movements and careful balancing acts as he pulls two mugs down from the cabinet, tucking them underneath his bicep as he moves to grab the kettle. Sam just makes a face towards him, flops down across the off yellow couch in the middle of the room, finally catching a glimpse of the man spread out across Bucky’s bed, like he owns it.

 

“Boyfriend?” Sam asks, careful that his teeth aren’t clenched too tight, making sure his voice comes across even and steady.

 

He’s surprised at his own irritation, knowing damn well he has no claim over Bucky.

 

“More like evening guest whose name escapes me and I can’t seem to get rid of,” Bucky replies, pouring the coffee into the filler and heating up some water on the stove, flitting around the kitchen whilst glancing warily towards his bed.

 

“Ah,” Sam replies, deeply relieved, “I get that. Shit’s annoying. Want me to get rid of him?”

 

“Oh- geeze Sam no, It’s ok, I can't ask you to do that, god, I’ll figure it out.”

 

Sam just throws himself off the couch with a groan that’s so ridiculous it makes Bucky smile, cheeks pink as he watches Sam grab a pair of sweatpants that are thrown over the kitchen chair. Sam slips them on, well more like shimmies, seeing as they're a little bit too small for him. They hug his thighs just right, tugged low on his hips. He grabs the carton of strawberries off the counter and makes his way towards the front door.

 

“Honey! I’m home!! I stopped at the market on the way over, and I picked out some of the freshest berries- Oh HEAVENS IS THAT A MAN? IN OUR BED?” Sam all but bellows as he mock walks through the front door, letting it slam behind him.

 

Bucky burns bright red as the man in his bed jumps straight up at Sam’s dramatics, reaching for as many clothes as he can, avoiding eye contact while apologizing profusely. Sam begins to wail, all but throwing the carton of strawberries a good foot away from him, whilst dropping to his knees and hollering as if he’d just been stabbed through the heart.

 

“I am so sorry!!! He- “ At this, the man points to Bucky, who is standing in the kitchen holding the pot of hot water, mugs tucked under his bicep, frozen to the floor. “He didn't tell me he was seeing someone.”

 

Sam flicks a look towards Bucky, who has all but forgotten about the task at hand, mouth agape uselessly as he alternates between Sam and his guest. It takes everything he has not to bust out laughing, but he presses on.

 

“Seeing someone? We’re married! _Ten years_ of marriage and this is how he treats me?” Sam wails again, releasing his knees from his chest and flopping back onto the floor, throwing an arm over his eyes, really milking it now.

 

He writhes around on the floor, moaning and hollering as the man scrabbles across the floor, almost running for the door. He’s careful not to whap Bucky as he trots over to the door, flinging it open so that the man can run out. Bucky slams the door shut behind him and slumps against it, the laughter that’s been building in his chest bursting out. Bucky laughs with little gasps and wheezes, intermittent with barks of pure sound. Sam loves it. Bucky wipes his eyes, tears pooling in them, and returns back to finish their coffees, shaking his head as Sam hauls himself off the floor and returns to the couch, slumping over it as if he’d given the performance of a lifetime. Bucky pours Sam and himself their coffee, dumping more than enough milk into Sam’s mug at his direction. He spoons some honey into his, stirring it lightly, plucking Sam’s cup from the counter and bringing it to him before returning to grab his own, plopping down next to Sam, careful not to lose his balance. Sam takes a sip and moans, throwing his head back in ecstasy, just to get a rise out of the man next to him, who rolls his eyes and swallows hard.

 

“Hey, Sam?”

 

“Yes, Bucky?” Sam tilts his head towards Bucky, eyes him over the green mug tucked into his hands, watching Bucky’s jaw work as he pauses.

 

“I’m sure that your own respective evening guest has left your apartment by now.” Bucky deadpans, staring straight ahead.

 

“You don’t have to hide out here anymore.”

 

“Oh but Buck-” Sam starts, tone honey sweet and dripping sultry, “I wanna stay here with you.” he punctuates this with a loll of his head towards Bucky’s shoulder, gazing up at him and fake batting his eyelashes.

 

Bucky snorts into his coffee, swallowing his mouthful and heaving himself off the couch.

 

“I’ve gotta meet Carol and Maria for breakfast, so unfortunately for you, I have to go, but you're welcome to finish your coffee.”

 

“Thanks, sexy face.” Sam returns smoothly, taking another gulp and punctuating it with a smirk, watching Bucky turn beet red for the third time this morning, shoving off the couch and then leaning back down to grab his cup, swaying off towards the bathroom.

 

It’s quiet for a few moments, Sam sipping his coffee as he comes awake, letting the sun soak through the windows and cover him with warmth. Sinking back into the couch, he closes his eyes and almost dozes off.

 

“Saam?” The call of his name jerks him out of the syrupy sludge of morning, Bucky’s voice calling him back to the present.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Could you braid my hair back before I have to leave?” Bucky calls this request out as he's brushing his teeth, which Sam hates, because it comes out garbled and mostly unintelligible.

 

He shoves off the couch anyway, strides through the the piles of assorted clothes on his floor, snatches two hair ties off the dresser, and a soft looking brush.

 

“One or two?” “Two please” Sam nods his assurance and crowds himself into Bucky’s space, hips shoving against his lower back, his larger frame fitting over Bucky in the most delicious way.

 

Sam swallows, parting Bucky’s hair, humming the tune of _Mr. Postman_ as he does, fisting his hand in the strands, wishing he had more self control. They move together as Bucky leans down to spit into the sink, Sam’s chest flush against his shoulders, pressed into his lower back like he’d been superglued there. Sam ties off the last braid with a flourish, Bucky smiling at him through the mirror.

 

“Thanks, Sam, you’re a real pal. I desperately need a haircut though.”

 

“I like your hair, but if you really want a haircut I know a gal who can do it for free,” Sam replies, already walking back towards the couch, making a beeline for his coffee.

 

Bucky eyes him, wheels in his head turning as he considers this.

 

“Yeah, that sounds good actually. Lemme know when she's free huh?”

 

“Sure thing Buck, see ya later!” Sam waves as Bucky slips out the door, pulling it shut behind him. He lets himself relax a few moments longer, until he pushes off the couch and grabs a sticky note, jotting a quick note down for Bucky, Natasha’s number scrawled across the bottom. He takes the sweatpants with him, wanders across the hall back to his own apartment.

 

_“And I think it's gonna be a long long time 'Till touchdown brings me round again to find I'm not the man they think I am at home Oh no no no I'm a rocket man, rocket man burning out his fuse up here alone”_

 

Sam can hear the sounds of Natasha belting out Elton John before he even opens the door to the apartment. He finds her in the kitchen, towel wrapped around her hair in a high swoop, hips swaying as she cuts fruit, clad in Sam’s boxers and yet another one of his t-shirts.

 

“Not that I’m complaining, but don’t you have your own drawer here, full of your own clothes?” Sam whispers, wrapping his arms around Natasha's waist, draping himself over her.

 

“Yes- but I know that you like me in your clothes, and I like being in your clothes.” At this she spins in his arms, wrapping her slender ones around his neck and pressing her lips to his jaw.

 

“M’ all yours Sam Wilson.” She kisses his neck as they sway back and forth, lets him spin her towards the couch, falling into the cushions with a thump.

 

“I have to teach class in an hour. Still wanna come?” Sam noses into her neck, the smell of her shampoo tickling his nose, pressing her into the couch like maybe if they squeeze tight enough, she’ll melt into him.

 

“Only if you wear the leggings I bought you.” She smiles at him, rubs her cheek against his, wiggles out from underneath him to pad into the bedroom.

 

He lays on the couch, watches her undress and changes into some soft looking shorts and a sports bra, yanking on socks and tennis shoes.

 

“Deal.” He asserts, climbing off the couch, heading for the bedroom.

 

He, with lots of “ooohooooos” from Natasha, pulls on the olive green leggings and matching black tank top she got him, giving her a spin.

 

“You look delightful baby. The 40 year old moms are going to lose their minds.” Sam just laughs, wraps her up in a hug as he pulls her out the door, sliding into his sneakers as they pass by the doorway.

 

They stop by the little cafe next to his studio, Natasha getting her french toast to go, Sam ordering a berry smoothie. They make it to the little space early, setting up mats on the floor, turning all the lights on.

 

Natasha’s phone rings, and she answers with a curt “Hello?”

 

The voice on the other end speaks, and her eyes light up as she sprints towards Sam. “It’s Bucky!” She mouths excitedly, gesturing wildly to the phone in her hands.

 

Sam leans close, tries to hear what he’s saying. Natasha offers up his apartment as a place for him to get his haircut, which, she does so that Sam will have to be there with them at some point. Sam thinks she’s the most ridiculous person he’s ever met, watches her hop back and forth on the balls of her feet to her heels, grinning into the phone as she sets his appointment for four.

 

“Bucky Barnes is going to get his haircut today at four. Don’t be late.”

 

“How could I miss it? Seeing as it's in MY apartment!”

 

People begin to file in right as Sam’s about to mock strangle Natasha, has her wrapped around his torso like a snake as they tussle. She slides off of him, fixes her hair and sways over to her corner. Sam makes sure that everyone is spaced properly, walks through the rows of his beginner yoga class clocking some new faces. One face in particular that he notices, however, is the blonde man who has taken up residence next to Natasha. He’s tall, about Sam’s height, with slicked back golden hair and a thick beard. They seem to have hit it off, if the way his giant hand is clasped over his heart as he belly laughs at whatever she said is anything to go off of. She waggles her eyebrows at Sam, the universal look for “ _this one’s cute.”_ Sam nods at her before returning to the front of the class.

 

“Good morning everyone! Welcome to Beginner Yoga, for those of you who are new, and welcome back to all of you who know me pretty well by now!”

 

There's a small chuckle from the crowd, the population mostly consisting of older women, all kind eyes and softness. Natasha stands out like a sore thumb, her dancers background making her much to advanced for any of the classes Sam can teach. She always tells him she just likes being with him, spending time together. Sam can live with that.

 

“Okay guys, let's get started with some deep breathing. Raise your arms above your heads and stretch, breathe in deep- hold- great job guys, okay now breathe out.”

 

As he leads warmup, Sam can’t help but watch Blonde and Beefy in the corner, his pecs straining the tight exercise t-shirt he wore, tapering down into a slim but well muscled waist. The guy is alternating glances between him and Natasha, blue eyes flitting back and forth. Sam pads over to him, praises his stance a little, and the guy turns beet red. Sam decides he likes that color on him. Natasha gives him a look, and he sidles off to coach some other students. He leads them through class, ending their last pose as downward facing dog. It was one of the easier poses to master, and Sam had spent a while practicing it for Natasha at home. He demonstrated it for the class, and then suggested they try it, weaving through the rows making sure everyone was doing it correctly. When he reached Natasha’s corner, he noticed that the blonde seemed to be having a hard time with the pose. Natasha was holding herself off the floor in a one-armed handstand, legs split in the air, eyes closed. He let her be, kneeling down so that he could whisper to the blonde.

 

“Hey, do you mind if I touch you? Your back is bowing in a bit during your pose, I thought maybe I could help you straighten it out.”

 

The blonde turns his head to stare at Sam, who is so close to him now that he can see the man hasn’t even broken a sweat. He smiles, a soft smile, full lips curling upwards slowly.

 

“Sure. I bet you could show me a thing or two.” The man's voice is deep, rough and hearty, as if he’d been chewing on his words for a while, waiting for Sam to offer his help.

 

Sam straightens up, places his hand on the other man’s abdomen, feels the muscles ripple beneath his palm. He pushes upwards, helping the blonde arch his back correctly, sneaking a look at the man's ass. It was a great ass. The other man falls right into the pose, tilting his head towards Sam as if looking for approval. Sam just nods, takes his hand off of the other man’s lower back and speed walks back towards the front. He has the class hold the pose a few moments longer, until he calls for cooldown.

 

“Okay guys, great job today. We’re going to end with the corpse pose. Everyone lie on your backs please, flat as possible, arms by your sides. We’re going to take five deep breaths, and then class is done. Try to relax into your mat, let your mind clear itself out as you breathe.”

 

Sam watches as Natasha slides into the pose next to the blonde man, who gracefully turns over, tight workout shorts straining against his powerful thighs, accentuating the bulge in his pants in a way that made Sam’s mouth water. He channels calm professionalism as Natasha cracks an eye open to stare at the man next to her, green eye lazily flicking over his body.

 

“Okay everyone great job! Class is dismissed, I will see everyone next week!” Sam’s students disperse, the sound of cheerful voices filling the silent room a comfort as they file out, some waving as they go, other’s beelining out, eyes glued to the floor.

 

Natasha smiles at him as she glides over, her hair falling out of her braid in rivulets. The blonde trails behind her, cheeks pink at whatever she whispered to him before making her way to Sam, who does his best to look professional.

 

“Sam, this is Steve-Steve, this is my boyfriend Sam.” Natasha makes the introductions, arms crossed over her chest, hip jutted out.

 

“Hi Sam, you teach a great yoga class.” Steve manages to choke out, beet red still.

 

His blue eyes are flicking back and forth from Sam to Nat, mostly because Nat’s staring at him like she’s gonna eat him alive. Sam loves that look.

 

“Thanks, Steve, and I hope this doesn't come off as rude but you don't seem the type to need beginner yoga. Ya look pretty advanced to me.” Steve chuckles at that, and runs a giant hand through his hair, grinning at the floor sheepishly.

 

“Yeeaaah about that, I was a Ranger for 4 years so I guess I am overqualified, but I walked by your class a couple of days ago and thought I could try beginner yoga if you were the one teaching it.” Steve grins, similar and all too familiar to Natasha’s usual catlike smirk.

 

“Rangers huh? I was pararescue for 6.” Sam just smiles at him, lopsided, a twinkle in his eye. Natasha huffs, uncrossing her arms and stepping into their space, lips parted slightly.

 

“And I was a classically trained Russian ballerina but you don’t see me using that to flirt with either of you!” Natasha butts in, good-natured and all smiles.

 

Steve glances down at her, something akin to fondness crossing his handsome features. Sam swallows, pushes down the urge to rip Steves shorts off and suck the life out of him while he looks at Nat like she's the sun.

 

“Well. Sam, Nat, thank you for the class. I’ve got to get to work, but believe me when I say I’d rather talk to the two of you.” Steve places his hands on his hips, shifts his weight from one foot to the other, staring right into Sam’s eyes as he does.

 

“Where do you work Steve?” Natasha asks, sly and flirty, bringing her own hand up to flick her hair back, tilting her head to gaze up at Steve.

 

“Redbone Cafe, over on 39th and 12th,” Steve replies, hand coming up to smooth over one of his pecs, the muscle flexing as he absentmindedly stroked along his chest.

 

Sam thought he was going to have an aneurysm, which of course Natasha had picked up on.

 

"Oh?" She quips, lips turned up in a smirk. "Sam has a soft spot for apple tarts. We might have to stop by sometime."

 

"Well I'll be back next week for class again- that is if Sam doesn't kick me out for being too experienced." Steve quirks an eyebrow, looking like a big dumb sunflower.

 

"If you promise to nail all your poses you can come back." Sam grins, bringing his hand up to rub against his neck.

 

"I can do that. I'll see ya guys." Steve turns with a smile, and strides out the door.

 

He's not gone for even a minute when Nat turns to him, smiling like an idiot.

 

"He's sweet." She purrs, lean arms coming to wrap around his neck.

 

“Yeah. He’s very sweet Tasha.” Sam hooks his arms around her waist, pulls her in close to kiss her.

 

“What’d he say to you at the beginning of class? “You two seemed pretty friendly.” “He asked me if I knew if the cute yoga instructor was available, so I set him straight.” She kisses him, syrupy sweet and gentle. “Told m we were a package deal Wilson. Figured both of us were tired of running around without each other.”

 

“Well you figured right baby, kinda been wanting ya all to myself lately. I ain’t got no qualms about sharing with Bucky.” Sam raises his eyebrows, kisses her jaw, down her neck a bit, mutters into her collarbone. “Maybe even share ya with Steve.”

 

“You just wanna fuck Steve and Bucky.” She licks a stripe up his earlobe, bites on the cartilage a bit, sends a shiver up his spine. “Would you watch Steve fuck me? Take me apart right in front of you- watch him as he held me down- told me what a good girl I am? Huh baby?” She’s grinding against him now, soft aborted little thrusts.

 

“Yeah honey, you’d like that wouldn’t ya. You’d like Steve to take control- watch him take Bucky apart too? I’d just sit there, watching my girl get fucked nice and slow.”

 

Nat removes her mouth from where it’s sucking hickies into his neck, kisses him hard on the mouth, whimpers a little bit when he slides a hand between her legs.

 

“Nat, baby, wanna ride me in front of the mirrors? Watch me fuck you good, remind you who you belong too? Got a coupla minutes before my next class-”

 

“Yes Sir, want it real bad, wanna show you how good you make me feel.” She releases him, pads over to the studio door and closes it, clicks the lock and then turns, waiting for him to direct her. Sam’s in awe of her, everything about her screams power, but she sits, muscles relaxed, soft smile on her lips, giving him all of her. It’s awe-inspiring.

 

“Cme’re kitten, lemme kiss ya proper huh?” She pads over to him, hair falling around her shoulders, green eyes sparkling, lips parted.

 

“Hi.” She whispers, hands at her sides, waiting for him.

 

“I’m gonna kiss you- that ok? Push you up against the wall, shove my thigh between your legs?” Natasha nods- quick, hair falling around her.

 

“Words baby. You know the rules.” Sam reminds her, gentle.

 

They slipped into this dynamic, after hooking up a couple times. She’d come to him, wearing his shirt, soft and pliant, and asked him if he wanted to take more control. It’d evolved from giggles and awkward fumbling to a well-oiled machine, the give and take of power. Sam loved her so damn much.

 

“Yes- yes Sir, want that, please.” She speaks, slow and steady, never breaking eye contact with Sam.

 

“Good girl, get over here- god you’re so beautiful. Look at yourself- you’re stunning baby.” Sam’s choking up- he knows she’ll make fun of him for it later, part of him can’t wait.

 

He watches her pad closer, fiddling with the hem of her workout shorts. “Can I take this off now? It’s hot in here- I feel like I’m gonna overheat.” She gestures to her outfit, workout shorts and a sports bra.

 

Sam swallows, pushes down the arousal that pools in his gut at her tone- the way she asks him for things so sweetly.

 

“Yeah-” he nods, slipping his own shirt over his head, “get comfortable sweets.”

 

Within minutes they’re in similar states of undress, Natasha completely naked, curled around him, half straddling his thigh as he holds her tight, kisses her breathless. Sam recalls tossing his shirt somewhere to the left of him, kept the leggings on for now. They sink to the floor, adjacent to the mirrors as promised, Nat balancing on top of him.

 

“Off?” She gestures to the leggings, runs her hand up his thigh, cups him in his pants.

 

Sam can’t help but moan, thrusts up into her palm, chasing the feeling.

 

“Yeah, lets get em off huh. Can’t wait to get inside you baby- watch you ride me so good.” Sam’s not even sure he’s making coherent sense anymore, his brain a closed circuit of _want want want_.

 

She strips the leggings off, pools them around his ankles and moves back up to his newly freed cock. Sam watches her lick her palm, trails saliva down her fingertips as she wraps a hand around his dick. He makes a punched out sound, jerking up into her touch as she straddles his thighs, pins him down.

 

“Do you need prep kitten? Or can I just slip right in?” Sam’s begging now almost, watching her stroke him in time to her grinds, feels her against his thigh.

 

She’s been quiet, tongue poked between her teeth as she works.

 

“Christ- “ she lets go of his cock, lets it slap back against his abs and leans forward, lies flush to his chest, kisses him hard.

 

“Just slip right in baby- you’re so big I’m still so open for you from this morning- “ She cuts herself off with a gasp, rolling her hips back against him, Sam winding his hands around her waist, keeping her steady.

 

Sam groans, lines up and pushes into her heat. It’s enough to make a man see stars on a normal day, without this much anticipation coursing through his veins, lighting him up. He kisses her, swallowing her moans as she does as promised, and rides him. He makes her watch herself in the ceiling to floor length mirrors behind them, listens to her cries of _“please please harder sir, sam, oh my god”_ as he flips them over and fucks into her on the floor, careful not to chafe.

 

“I’m putting that on the list Sammy.” She manages to pant out, still lying fucked out and pliant underneath him,

 

Sam’s head spinning as he tries to breathe. “The sex list?” Sam hears his voice, scratchy and worn, thick with sleep for the second time today. She smiles into his shoulder, bites down a bit as he rolls off of her, pulls his leggings back up and offers her a towel next to the teachers mat.

 

“How long until your next class?” He can hear her rustling for her bra and shorts, and he wants to tell her he’s going to skip class, go home with her and cook her something greasy while they watch mexican wrestling in bed.

 

“About 15 minutes.” Is what he says, half begrudging and half staring at her naked ass, watching her wiggle around trying to pull her shorts up.

 

“That's a record for us baby! 30 minutes with sex that good? Hot damn.” She laughs, high and light, yanking her shorts up and skipping, honest to god _skips_ over to him.

 

He’s staring, mooning at her, looking at her like he just won the lottery.

 

“What?”

 

“I love you, Romanoff. I got real fuckin lucky with you and I love ya.”

 

“Ugh. I love you too Wilson. Now put a shirt on a teach your classes so you can come home and suck Bucky’s dick.”

 

Sam laughs, a deep vibrato as he hugs her goodbye, pulls her off the floor into his chest. She wiggles free and sways out of the studio, throwing him a little finger wave as she slips out the door. He forces himself to focus, set up the mats and wipe the floor a bit. Sam makes it through three more classes, all advanced yoga. He’d begun teaching here after his pararescue retirement, time in combat making him jumpy, feeling like his nerves were constantly fried. He found peace and quiet more embracing than he ever had before, letting it envelop his tired muscles. He lost his best friend in combat, watched him get shot right out of the sky. It changed him, the young punk who joined the war trying to find meaning- a terrified soldier, lost. He watched countless teammates die, some in his arms. He wasn’t sure there was a meaning in life, but if there was it had red hair and cooked a mean lasagna. He’d met Natasha shortly after coming home, had been spending his time day drinking in a loud little pub a block from the VA Center. One of his war buddies had dragged him to a meeting, which is where they met. She was an ex-spy with the KGB, had spent her whole life killing and lying. She’d been cold, scared, calculated. They’d gone to a diner, had french toast, and when she opened up to him he never wanted her to stop. She was sweet, funny and beautiful, and she had a way about her that terrified him. He learned that she was a ballerina, part of her KGB training he gathered. She was the peace and quiet he’d been searching for. They hit it off, started off as sex friends, but within a couple of weeks Sam was pretty much head over heels for her. They began dating, an open relationship suting them best. Now, two years later, she practically lived in his place, had her own hairdressing business, wildly successful. Sam couldn’t believe they were the same people that met two years ago, overgrown beard collecting peanut shavings, an ex Russian spy glaring at him over toast. Classes flew by, as they always did when he took a trip down memory lane.

 

They made one another better, taught one another to grieve, to find joy. Sam loved her more than anything ever.

 

He checked his phone as he locked up- the timestamp reading 3:50, a thread of texts from Natasha pinging as he opened his messages. They mostly consisted of updates of mexican wrestling, the last two detailing that Bucky was over- and that he was very cute. If Sam walked a little faster towards home, that was his business, but he did in fact almost run the two blocks home, narrowly missing being run over by a taxi. The stairs, 4 flights of winding steep stairs are what greet him. The elevator, a rickety old thing that had never once run in its life, Sam’s sure, sits smugly in the lobby, taunts him. He moans and groans up the stairs, muscles tired from work and what with the sprinting he just did. He finally makes it to the front door, gingerly opens the door, slumps inside.

 

Bucky and Natasha are in the “kitchen” the studio esq apartment not boasting much space. Natasha is crammed behind Bucky, whom she sat up in one of Sam’s nicer kitchen chairs, towel draped over his bare shoulders. She’s set up her mirror, a giant, endless piece of glass she found on the street. It’s propped against the fridge, if Bucky stretched his toes he’d be able to kick it down. His hair is down, pooled down around his shoulders like a big brown halo.

 

“Hi baby!!!” Nat smiles at him, all sunshine and sweetness, gently placing the hair cutting scissors down on the sink before trotting over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him deep.

 

He sways with it, lets her drag him in.

 

“Damm Wilson, I’d be more inclined to let you come over if ya’d greet me like that.” Bucky calls from the chair as they break apart, stupid grin painted on his face.

 

“Oh?” Sam blushes, feels it down in his toes, turns to Nat, who is wrapped in his arms. “Did you say something?” He whispers, pushes his nose into her cheek, closes his eyes in embarrassment.

 

“What- you know wine makes me a little chatty. Plus he likes you too- ya idiot.” She nuzzles into his neck, pressing gentle kisses there.

 

“We might have gabbed.” Bucky cranes his neck from the seat, blush crawling up his cheeks. “A slight gab was had.”

 

Sam just nods, dumb, as Natasha unhooks herself from his shoulders and ambles back over to Bucky, fluffing his hair up and spritzing it with her pink spray bottle. It falls wet against his neck with every squirt, water droplets sliding down his neck, catching in the towel sitting on his shoulders. Sam wants to lick it off, slide his tongue up the line of his proud neck, round the shell of his ear. He pads further into the kitchen, plops down at Bucky’s feet, pats his shin, settles back next to the mirror.

 

“Hi.” Bucky whispers, wiggles his fingers in a hello, the tiniest of waves.

 

“Hey.” Sam smiles up at him, curls his palm around his warm shin, squeezes gently.

 

“Nat’s sweet-” Bucky says, Natasha, gathering a strand of hair, cutting it as she hums, in her own world.

 

“She told me about you two. Bout how ya met. S’ nice.” His blue eyes are shifty, flitting across the planes of Sam’s face.

 

“Mmm. Are you upset I didn’t tell you I had a girl?” Sam quirks an eyebrow, lets his lips twist into a small smile.

 

“No. I get why you didn’t say anything. Wanted to preserve it- keep it to yourself.” Bucky swallows, jaw working as Natasha continues to cut strands of hair, falls all around him in clumps.

 

“Somethin like that.” Sam responds, focused on the curve of his lips, the way his eyes look like the clouds right after it rains.

 

“Liked you- still do- a lot. You’re a damn catch Barnes. I dunno how you feel about sharing though.” He says it too fast, the words tumbling out, takes his hand off his shin, runs it down his thigh, scrubbing it down the fabric.

 

“I could. With you two. If you want- Nat told me you guys are a package deal.”

 

“We are.” Nat replies, fingers tangled in what’s left of his locks, bits and pieces hacked here and there.

 

“Ok- well. Let’s start with breakfast tomorrow- my place.” Bucky turns his head to address Sam, tilts back to eye Natasha in the reflection.

 

“Sounds great. You’ll have coffee right?” Sam teases, holds his hand out for Bucky.

 

“God Wilson you’re such a fucking mooch!” Natasha is indignant, laughing, as she snips and trims, never taking her eyes off of Bucky's reflection.

 

Bucky just grins and belly laughs, tries to hold still- even as Natasha gently pulls his hair, brings his head back to her scissors, holding in her own laughter. She cuts most of his hair off, leaving him with closely cropped locks, long enough to stick up every which way- Sam determines, as she runs her hands through his hair, long enough to pull. Natasha cleans up the discarded hair as they lug the mirror back into the living room, face it towards the wall behind the TV. Bucky keeps running his hand over his hair- petting it down and pushing it back up as he follows Sam back into the kitchen, says goodbye- thank you.

 

Natasha holds her arms out for a hug and Bucky leans in, wraps a hand around her waist and tucks his head into her neck. He goes to Sam next, all solid muscle pressed up against him. He tells them to come over around 9 tomorrow, to have their breakfast date. Sam can’t wait- wants to kiss him breathless against the door- hold him tight. Natasha and Sam watch him walk across the hall, safely home- as if there was much of a journey there anyways. They spend the night dancing in the living room, a record player spinning for them- an old record Natasha had found on her way home. Sam memorizes the planes of her face, holds em in his heart with her laugh. They fall into bed that night, moonlight bathing their bed in cool light, winking at them as they drifted off. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Natasha and Sam finally get together. Thank god.
> 
> Bucky sees Steve again! Worlds collide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly fluff, lots of domestic smooching and easy sunday mornings. I love steve sam bucky and nat. god. can you tell?  
> WARNINGS:  
> Just some heavy smooching. Nothing crazy!

To say that Bucky was nervous would be the understatement of the year. He’d left Sam’s apartment yesterday, walking on air. Natasha was so sweet, a fireball of good advice and witty jokes. She was beautiful- red hair tumbling into blonde at the tips, full lips, and a great figure. The little apartment had been crammed when Bucky first saw it, dressers and tables taking up awkward chunks. Now it seemed larger than before, a small dinner table in the entrance, the kitchen adorned with hand-drawn portraits of Sam, a couple of Natasha herself, and quite a few pictures of dogs in various hats. He loved it all. Natasha had crammed a large mirror in between the fridge and a kitchen chair, draped a towel over the side of the glass as she waited for him. She’d opened the door with a huge smile, and immediately leaped forward with a “can I hug you?” and about tackled him as he let out a muffled “sure.” When she finally let him go she was blushing slightly, cheeks a delightful shade of pink. 

“Sorry about that. I’m a hugger. Plus any friend of Sam’s is a friend of mine.” She stepped aside to let him into the apartment, hair pulled back into a haphazard braid, strands falling out and around her face. 

“It’s okay- How do you know Sam?” Bucky swallows hard, adjusts his prosthetic uncomfortably as she pads into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses and producing a bottle of wine, wiggling it with a little smile. 

“Want a little bit? Natasha turns the bottle to stare at the label, lips pursing gently. “It’s pink wine. Really yummy. I’m pretty sure it’s Sam’s, in fact I know it is.” 

“Yeah, that sounds great. Thank you.” 

She just smiles at him in return, all soft and disarming, and pours them two glasses, saunters over to the kitchen table and slides in next to him. 

“Sam and I are dating. That’s how I know him.” She says it matter of fact, calm and to the point. She takes a sip of her wine, eyes him over the rim of her glass, green eyes sparkling. 

“Oh! Wow- um- okay.” Bucky’s mind is reeling, he knows Sam often has guests over, men and women, does Natasha know? 

“We’re polyamorous- he’s not cheating on me.” She says this like she read his mind, cracked it open like a dusty old book and blew on the pages, clearing away the cobwebs. 

“Oh!” Bucky’s cheeks flush, the wine settling into his belly with a delightful warmth. “So you guys mostly date other individuals?” 

“Up until now, yeah. I think we both knew we loved one another, but neither of us have had much of a dating life given our pasts, and we wanted to try the whole dating scene without losing one another.” She swallows another sip, fingers tracing little swirls into the side of her cup as she speaks, head tilted slightly as she watches Bucky. “We both decided recently that if we’re going to see another person or people, we’d like it to be together, maybe try adding another individual to our relationship.” 

“That’s wonderful, my ex-girlfriend and her wife are polyamorous as well. They didn’t wanna see other people without each other, they’re glued to each other’s sides.” Bucky smiles at Natasha, hand coming up to smooth his hair back. “How’d you guys meet?” 

Natasha sighs, leans back in her chair, licks her lips gentle. “We met at group therapy at the VA. Sam did four tours in Iraq- pararescue. I was a spy for the KGB. I defected to America when I was 18. It’s all I knew how to do.” She pauses, green eyes serious. “We hit it off. He never pitied me, wasn’t afraid of me. I learned how to be me because of him. It started off as just sex- but we ended up falling for one another fast. Bucky watches her swallow, the line of her throat as she pauses, the pain of her youth so easily detected behind those green eyes. “He makes me feel human-” She says finally. “I don’t feel like a killer, like a machine. I feel loved, safe. I owe him everything.” Bucky nods, knows Sam’s side of the story is probably equally as profound. 

“Sam told me about his pararescue days- I did a tour in Iraq as a sniper, before I got my arm blown off.” He wiggles the prosthetic- the plates whirring and metal gleaming as it calibrates, a ripple across the plates.” Natasha looks at the arm and back to his eyes- sympathy and understanding glittering under the surface. 

“I’m sorry Bucky.” She says- simple and sincere, face impassive. She knows pain, he understands. She is not apologizing as an outsider, but as a woman who has seen the horrors of war- looked death in the eye. She moves with a grace that comes with years of being invisible. He wants to tell her to never vanish again- wants to tell her she reminds him of the sun- guiding and bright. 

“Thank you. I’m glad you and Sam met- and then I met Sam, and now you. I just- you seem really great. And I’m just grateful for that.” Bucky turns red as he speaks, the wine having settled into his bones, something akin to liquid courage making him earnest and honest. 

Natasha just purrs, smiles at him and opens her mouth like she’s going to speak- clamps it shut. 

“Sam has a crush on you.” She finally blurts, eyes going wide as she stares at her glass, empty now, curled in the palm of her hand. “I never used to be such a lightweight- I’m fucking russian for god’s sake. I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to spring that on you.” 

Bucky just stares at her dumbly, slightly tipsy, warm all over. Sam has a crush on Bucky. Sam has a beautiful counterpart- who is sitting adjacent to him right now, blushing and apologizing like there’s no tomorrow. 

“Sam has a crush on me? He repeats, slow- words dripping off of his tongue. He watches her nod, hair falling around her face. He smiles, slow- and just sits there grinning like a dumbass as he thinks about Sam liking him. “Oh. Well. I like Sam too.” 

At this Natasha shrieks with joy, hops up out of her chair and does a little dance, shakes her hips and giggles. It’s fucking awesome, Bucky thinks, and he stands up to trot in place with her, laughing his head off at their antics. She hugs him again, arms wrapped around his neck, hips flush to his. 

“I’m sorry I freaked out there-” She says, letting out a breath, plopping back down into the chair and folding her arms. “He’s been pining after you since you moved in, I’ve been trying to get him to ask you out for soo long.” 

“Well that makes two of us, I’ve been wanting that idiot since he helped me carry my groceries up the stairs that first night. He looked so damn good in that tux.” 

Natasha raises her empty glass in a toast, closes her eyes and hums in agreement. 

“He fills that suit out perfectly. Sometimes I ask him to wear it around the house- he struts around in that too tight shirt- it’s like it’s fucking glued to his body- and he just like- hams it up.” She laughs at the memory, rises to her feet to take their glasses to the sink. 

“He defiles a national icon when he wears those goddam Captain America boxers” Bucky agrees, pushing his chair in as he stands, fiddling with his hair. 

Natasha turns around, catlike smirk on her face. 

“I bought him those. They’re a size too small- they shrink every time I wash them.” 

Bucky loses it at that, laughing so hard he tilts backward, Natasha herself fisting her hand in his shirt as she doubles over, tears running out of her eyes. 

“Leg day everyday.” Bucky says in between fits of laughter, Nat sucking in another breath as she laughs even harder, her hand shaking as she tries to stand up, holding her stomach as they dissolve into giggles. 

“Baby- are my legs getting bigger? I swear my shit keeps shrinking.” Natasha does her best impression of Sam, standing like she's a prizefighter, fists clenched at her sides, mouth contorting as she makes fun of him goodnaturedly. 

It starts them laughing again, gasping for air and finally finding their breath, wiping the tears from their eyes. Bucky pushes his hair out of his eyes, makes his way over to her chair in front of the mirror. She sits him down, drapes a towel across his shoulders, gets to work filling up a pink spray bottle with sink water, gathers up her hair supplies as he wiggles in his chair, gets comfortable. 

“So what were you thinking- wanna keep it long? Buzzcut?”

“I want it short- but enough hair left to style a little bit.” Natasha nods, twists the cap onto her bottle, grabs her scissors and pads over to stand behind him. She has a row of pink hair clips attached to her sweatshirt, plucks one off and begins to section off his hair. 

The door swings open just as shes twisting the last piece of hair into its clip, revealing Sam in the doorway, sweaty and handsome. Natasha places her stuff down to trot over to him, pulls him into a sweet kiss. Sam’s hands grip her waist as she falls into him, tilts her backwards a bit as they go. 

“Damm Wilson, I’d be more inclined to let you come over if ya’d greet me like that!” Bucky calls, smiles sly and wiggles his eyebrows, watches Sam’s eyes go wide. 

“Oh?” is all he gets in response, watches Sam bury his nose into Nat’s cheek, whisper something into her hair. 

She whispers something back, tilts her head at him, kisses into his neck gently. His arms are wrapped possessively around her waist, holds her close to him. They’re beautiful together, years of love easily read on their bodies, familiar and smooth. 

She finally pries out of his grasp, walks back over to Bucky to pick up her scissors, snips and spritzes alternating across his head, brushing out the strands and chopping them off. Bucky eyes Sam, wiggles his fingers and whispers a “hi” as he stares, like some sort of teenybopper at a Boyz to Men concert. 

Sam plops down at his feet, careful not to dislodge the mirror, wraps a warm palm around his ankle, a little “hey” escaping from his lips. 

“Nat’s sweet-” Bucky begins, as Nat hums in agreement, gathers his hair in his hands and begins to do her thing. “She told me about you two. Bout how ya met. S’nice.” 

“Mmm.” Sam replies, fingers stroking over his ankle in little strips, warm and calming. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you I had a girl?” Sam quirks an eyebrow, lets his lips twist into a smile. 

“No, I get why you didn’t say anything. Wanted to preserve it- keep it to yourself.” Bucky swallows, flicks his eyes across Sam’s face. 

Natasha just continues to snip away- strands of hair falling like rain around his shoulders. She lets them have this- lets them decide what to do next. 

“Somethin like that.” Sam rumbles, eyes fixed on Bucky’s, staring at him tender. “Liked you- still do- a lot. You’re a damn catch Barnes. I dunno how you feel about sharing though.” The words come out fast, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t get them out as quick as he can they’ll dissipate into thin air- vaporize out from his lips and into nothing. 

“I could. With you two. If you want- Nat told me you guys are a package deal.” 

“We are.” Nat interrupts, sections off another piece of hair, trims it down, goes back to her task. 

“Ok-well, let's start with breakfast tomorrow. My place?” Bucky looks at Sam first, then to Natasha. She nods gently, keeps trimming away. 

It's now 7 am, and Bucky told them to come over at 10. He’s been lying awake for hours, butterflies kicking up a storm in his belly. He finally decides to go to Redbone Cafe- maybe pick up some pastries for breakfast. He pulls on a pair of black jeans, slips on his favorite Wham! cropped tank top- it used to be Carols, before he stole it. He grabs his prosthetic from its case, slides the rubber sleeve over the stump and connects his arm. It whirs to life, running through its familiar startup as he walks out the room, slides his feet into his shoes and heads out the door. It’s only 7:30, and Bucky bemoans the day he decided to move back to New York. He was a fool- a summer and beaches loving fool- who decided to move to Brooklyn because he liked the idea of snow. He tracks through the leftover slush despite it being late spring. It’ll warm up later, he knows, is glad for the bite of cold against his bare arm and shoulders. The 15 minute walk wakes him up in a way that coffee never could, the brisk air swirling around his neck and cheeks. Bucky had forgotten to brush his hair this morning- the new length was throwing him for a loop. The last time he’d had anything close to being this short was in the Army, during basic training. A buzzcut had not been a good look for him. His hair was sticking in 30 different directions, the circles under his eyes making him look like some sort of exhausted clown. He pushed the door open to the cafe- a bell jingling above the door as he walked into the warmth, visibly relaxing. 

“Hi! Welcome to Redbone how may I help yo- Bucky?” The voice greeting him was familiar- honey rich, a deep timbre that filled his bones and made him liquid, reminded him of a summer day at the park, licking a popsicle and lounging in the sun. It belonged to Steve Rogers, whose pecs were so big Bucky was pretty sure he could curl up and take a nap in them. 

“Wow! Steve- long time no see.” Bucky rasps out- breath momentarily coming back to him as Steve, grinning and sunny, strode around from behind the counter to come wrap him in a giant bear hug. 

Steve, of course, smells like cinnamon and apples and everything good and safe and Bucky wants to cry. He doesn't. He’s wearing a red apron, taught around his waist and shoulders, soft grey henley and blue jeans underneath. His hair is combed back, less of the golden-haired cherub Bucky knew and more of a dirty blonde Adonis now, his beard full and well groomed against his jaw. 

“So, I mean, what brings you here at-” Steve pauses to look at his watch, a simple brown watch with bracelets around his wrist. Bucky thinks he's going to lick each and every one of his fingers and then move onto his forearm and suck hickies next to the veins running through his arms. “At 7:45 in the morning? If I recall correctly you weren’t much of a morning person.” Steve finishes, smiling down at Bucky like a big dumb sunflower. 

“Oh I’m having breakfast with some friends, and I couldn’t sleep so I came down here. I’ve been meaning to come try some pastries at some point- Carol and Maria’s new girlfriend Valkyrie said everything here is great.” Bucky mentally high fives himself for not climbing Steve like a tree in the middle of this bakery, albeit mostly deserted, but still. He’s exhibiting lots of self-control and for that he is proud. 

“Oh!” Steve’s cheeks go pink as he grins, adjusts his apron. “Valkyrie is the best. She’s too kind- how’s Carol and Maria? And their daughter, it’s Monica right?” 

“Yes- wow, yeah Monica is good. She’s doing ballet now, wants to be a ballerina. Last month she wanted to be an air force pilot like her mom and auntie carol, but who knows.” 

Steve smiles again and shakes his head gently in agreement, claps a hand on Bucky's shoulder and leans in. 

“Why don’t you come grab some pastries for your breakfast? I can show you some special ones I’ve got in the back.” 

Bucky just nods dumbly, feels his legs move and follows Steve into the backroom. It smells even better back here, ovens beeping and mixers whirring as Steve makes his way towards what looks like a supply closet. It’s his office, Bucky finds out, a little hole in the wall with papers and coffee cups strewn about, an office chair shoved in. Steve is explaining how he makes everything the morning of, so it’s all fresh, and he’s saying something about proofing- Bucky has no idea what that means. He’s so earnest and sweet, Bucky remembers, and just follows him as he flits from machine to machine, checking on his work. He finally makes his way over to the oven, pulls out a tray of sticky buns, the smell wafting into Bucky’s nose, enveloping him. 

“So- These are my famous sticky buns, and I have some donuts in the fridge right now so I’ll get you some of those, and an apple twist?” 

“That sounds great- thank you.” Bucky runs his hands through his hair, nervous, not enough of it left to even properly smooth down. He shifts from foot to foot, arm calibrating and whirring as he wiggles it back and forth. Steve just grabs a pastry box and begins to fill it with all kinds of stuff- and as promised, sticky buns, an apple twist, and some donuts. Bucky thinks he spots some rolls and cookies, and a few assorted muffins. 

“So how have you been Buck?” Steve calls, wrapping the box with a bow and carefully placing it in a carrying bag. 

“Uh- good! Work is work, still bartending. How are you- this is so awesome- I can’t believe you have your own bakery now.” 

“Yeah- It’s pretty surreal. I got real lucky, I was doing a show and the man who bought some of my work happened to own a bakery- and needed a new head baker. So I offered, and here I am been running the place since he retired.” Steve hands him the bag, gives him another soft smile. 

“It was so good to see you, Buck. Really.” Steves so fucking earnest leans forward and speaks all low, in that stupid voice that makes Bucky’s knees weak. 

“Yeah, maybe we can catch up soon.” He replies, does his best to be nonchalant. 

“This might be forward but- what are you doing this afternoon?” 

 

“Nothing- I mean- just hanging out.” Bucky blurts out, cheeks red. 

“Well- I’m done here at 12- maybe I could come by, bring some coffee?” 

“That- would be really nice Steve.”

Bucky tucks the bag underneath his arm as he walks back out the door, Steve trailing behind him as he walks him to the door, the little shop bell jingling as they step outside. Steve shoves his hands deep into his apron pockets, pulls his shoulders up to his ears. They shuffle nervously for a few moments- the clear morning air swirling around their bodies. Bucky says goodbye- rushes it out into the wind. Steve just smiles at him- grins big and yellow- like a sunbeam. 

He walks back to his apartment- slower than his usual half sprint. The stairs to his apartment are still a nightmare, but he climbs them with the slow methodical steps he’s learned to take in order to make the journey. The walk seems to have staved off his nerves, and he finds himself exhausted, toes his shoes off and kicks off his pants, falls into bed. He wakes up to a hand brushing through his hair, smoothing the strands down across his forehead. 

“Hey sweetheart- did ya forget about our little breakfast date?” Sam’s voice is deep in his ear, rich and smooth. Sends a shiver down his spine, Bucky feels his feet curl, toes all scrunched up. He can hear Nat giggle as he stretches out, yawing theatrically and cracking one eye open. 

“Course I didn’t forget. Bought pastries and everything.” Bucky throws his arm over his eyes and groans at the sun streaming through the window, the curtains pulled back. Sam must've done that. 

“Ya got room in that bed for one more?” Natasha rasps from behind him, all warm smiles and soft whispers. 

“Yeah, here, climb in. Sam, get in here too if ya want.” Bucky throws the covers back, scooches over towards the middle. Natasha immediately climbs in and over, shoves into his front, curls up like a big cat in his arms. Sam climbs over the both of them, settles in behind Bucky, wraps a warm arm around his waist, rubs Natasha’s arm over his hip. 

“Hi” Sam whispers 

“This is nice” Nat says 

Bucky agrees. He’s sandwiched between two very attractive people in his bed, soft and warm, and he’s perfectly content to lie here all day. 

“Hey Buck?” Sam asks from behind him, soft and small, his arm tightening around his middle. 

“Yea Sam?” Bucky twists around, shoves his face closer to Sam. Stares him in the eyes, those big brown eyes. He can feel Natasha prop up behind his back, rests her chin over his shoulder, hand coming up to card through his hair. 

“Can I kiss you- kiss ya properly. I’ve been really wanting too- since I met ya really.” 

“Yea- god- yeah please.” Bucky licks his lips as Sam’s hand tightens around his waist, pulls him flush to his chest, leans in. Can hear him mutter “see baby look how sweet he asks.” as Natasha just hums in agreement, head falling off of his shoulder. 

Sam connects their lips, soft and warm, licks into his mouth slow and syrupy, chest pressed to Bucky’s, hand tangled in his hair. Bucky can’t help it- Sam tugs his hair just the right way, feels Nat press up against his back, rubs his side gentle- he moans into Sam’s mouth, feels him growl and kiss him harder. Finally they part, lips bitten red and swollen. Sam is just staring at him- pupils blown, lips parted. 

Bucky twists back around, grins at Natasha, all big and bright and dumb. 

“Hiya Nat. Can I kiss ya too?” 

“Yeah- I’d like that” She replies, smiles back at him just as dumb and bright. 

He presses his lips to hers, gentle, lets her set the pace. She’s soft where Sam is hard, kisses him slow and languid, makes the room spin as she hitches a leg up over his hip, lets him pull her in close. Sam just kisses the back of his neck, his jaw, mouths at his ear. They pull away and for a split second, there’s just silence, radio static as they all stare at one another. Sam leans up and over to kiss Nat, grips her by the nape and pulls her in. They kiss with a practiced sort of ease, the kind of kiss you get after years of love and commitment. It’s beautiful- Bucky thinks, rests his hand on Nats hip, shoves back into Sam’s chest. 

They cuddle together close for awhile, trading gentle kisses and touches. The sun streams through the open window, bathing the room in a bright orange tint, shadows dancing off their forms. Eventually they all get out of bed, pad into the kitchen and grab the pastries and coffee, plop down onto his worn out couch in a pile. Sam devours the apple twists, moaning and rolling his eyes, licking his fingers and pressing soft kisses to Bucky and Nat’s cheeks and mouths, spreading powdered sugar all over their cheeks and mouths. 

“Where did you get these Buck?” Nat asserts, pulling apart a sticky bun and scarfing it down. 

“Redbone Cafe” Bucky mumbles out around a mouthful of cinnamon donut, cheeks full.

“Redbone Cafe?” Sam repeats, swallows the apple twist in one gulp, eyes fixed on Natasha, eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah that’s what I said Wilson.” He replies, shoves his feet underneath his thighs, leans back into Nats lap. Her arms come up to wrap around his chest, anchoring him in. 

“Huh. I know someone who works there- that's all.” Sam replies, shooting Natasha a look over Bucky’s head. 

Bucky ignores it, knows they’ll clue him in at some point. They lie together on the couch, progressively mashing one another together in a big warm pile. Natasha begs them to turn on mexican wrestling, and they watch for what seems like hours, lazy and pliant. Sam rucks his hand up underneath Bucky’s tank top, hand placed warm over his belly, Nat’s legs slung possessive over his hips. 

He’s pretty sure he dozes off again, is jostled awake by Sam wiggling out from underneath him muttering something about there being someone at the door. He pads over, Bucky still half asleep, Natasha running her fingers through his hair, tugging gentle at the strands. 

“Steve?” Sam yelps, cheeks pink as could be as he steps back, stumbles on his own two feet further into the doorway. 

“Sam?” Steve croaks, leans forward to peek into the apartment. 

Bucky scrambles off the couch, shoves off and slips towards the door. 

“Heya Steve, can’t believe it’s twelve already huh? I can see you and Sam have met-” Sam just stands there, wraps an arm around Bucky’s waist as he leans into him. 

“Yeah- uh funny story- we uh- met at Sam’s yoga class.” Steve is a bright shade of pink now, the blush running down his cheeks and into his collar. 

“Hi Steve” Natasha waves from the couch, sprawls out across the cushions like a giant cat. 

He gives her a little finger wiggle, dumb smile crossing his face. 

“Hey Steve, uh, wanna come in?” 

“Yeah Buck- I’d like that.”


End file.
